


Not Bad for my First Time

by Zoejoy24



Series: Bad Things Happen Bingo [9]
Category: Prodigal Son (TV 2019)
Genre: Bad Things Happen Bingo, Bruises, Canon Compliant, During Canon, Friendship, Gen, Malcolm Bright Whump, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Vehicular Accident, Wait and Hope, Whump
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-18
Updated: 2020-04-18
Packaged: 2021-03-01 21:42:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,016
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23724037
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zoejoy24/pseuds/Zoejoy24
Summary: He looks down, taking stock of his appearance, primarily to check for blood, but also to gauge the damage to the formerly pristine white suit.His mother will not be pleased.  He hopes there’s a Dry Cleaner out there somewhere able to get those stains out.“Not too bad for my first car accident,” he jokes, wiggling his eyebrows.Gil gives him an unimpressed look, while Dani and JT shake their heads and roll their eyes.“You couldn't have wrecked someone else’s car?” Gil growls.Written for the Vehicular Accident square on my Bad Things Happen Bingo Card.
Series: Bad Things Happen Bingo [9]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1610707
Comments: 7
Kudos: 83
Collections: Bad Things Happen Bingo





	Not Bad for my First Time

**Author's Note:**

> This is much lighter than most of my whumpy works. Hopefully that isn't _too_ disappointing. I needed something quick and fun to break a bit of a slump I seem to be in. Hopefully this does the trick!
> 
> Also, big thanks as always to [TheCosmicMushroom](http://archiveofourown.com/users/TheCosmicMushroom/pseuds/TheCosmicMushroom) for the beta. It is very much appreciated!

_ Ow _ , is the first thing Malcolm thinks as his body crashes into the roof of the Le Mans, the soft top crumbling underneath him as he lands with a crash, the crunch of glass shattering beneath him almost louder than the explosion overhead. The vest he’d been given absorbs some of the impact and protects his vital organs and spinal cord from taking the full force of the fall, and he managed to keep his head elevated and avoid any damageto his skull.

But.  _ Ow _ .

It still hurts like hell, and the force of his landing drives the breath from his lungs. He curls in on himself, sucking in as much air as he can, rolling over with a groan and meeting the shocked eyes of his team.

He makes a quip about missing his flight to hide how much pain he’s actually in, each inhale sending a shooting pain through his middle. He doesn’t think any of his ribs are broken, but he won’t really be able to tell until he gets up and gets the vest off. And… ow. Even  _ thinking  _ about standing up hurts, so he collapses back onto his back and focuses on breathing as carefully as possible.

Gil, JT, and Dani round the car to stand beside him, looking him over, their expression’s equal parts incredulity and concern. Gil looks like he might cry.

“Bright, are you okay?” Dani asks first. 

He groans in response. Dumb question, he wants to point out, but that would require breathing, which is beginning to seem like less and less of a priority with each painful inhale.

“Do we need to call a bus?” Gil adds.

That gets Malcolm moving. He should probably say yes, or at least have someone drive him to the hospital to get checked out. But he hates hospitals, and he’d rather suffer here than in  _ there _ . 

“No, I’m good. Just… needed a minute to catch my breath,” he lies, rolling carefully onto his side so he’s facing them and gingerly pushing himself up into a seated position. His whole midsection screams in protest, but the pain is particularly sharp halfway down his rib cage on his right side.

All three team members reach out to help him as he slides off the car, Gil and JT taking hold of an arm each, and Dani stands in front of him with hands up and ready to catch him if he starts to tilt forward.

He doesn’t, thankfully. His legs are surprisingly steady beneath him, and standing doesn’t hurt any more than laying down had, so at least there’s that. Without even asking, Gil and JT work together to lift the vest over his head, something he is incredibly grateful for. He doesn’t even want to think about how raising his arms up would feel.

He looks down, taking stock of his appearance, primarily to check for blood, but also to gauge the damage to the formerly pristine suit.

His mother will not be pleased. He hopes there’s a Dry Cleaner out there somewhere able to get those stains out.

“Not too bad for my first car accident,” he jokes, wiggling his eyebrows.

Gil gives him an unimpressed look, while Dani and JT shake their heads and roll their eyes.

“You couldn't have wrecked someone else’s car?” Gil growls.

Malcolm sobers, looking back at the ruined Le Mans sheepishly.

“Right… sorry about that.”

Gil crosses his arms with a huff that Malcolm likes to think is fond.

“Well kid, as much as I hate to admit it, I think you’re right about missing your flight. This case just got a whole lot more serious.”

Malcolm manages a small, self-satisfied smile at Gil’s admission. “Great! Let’s get to work!” he exclaims, barely hiding a wince when even that small amount of excitement causes pain to radiate out from his spine and across his chest. His left arm comes up to wrap around his ribs of its own volition, and he turns the motion into a less than smooth attempt to brush the hair back from his face. 

Gil gives him a look that tells him he isn’t fooling anyone. “Not so fast, Bright. Dani, would you take Superman here back to his loft so he can get out of that suit? We’ll finish processing whatever there is left to process and meet you both back at the precinct.”

“Sure thing, Boss,” Dani agrees, reaching out to offer a supportive hand on his elbow as Malcolm takes a few hesitant steps.

Walking hurts, but it’s bearable, as long as he goes slow and steady. The stairs are a bit of a bitch, more so because of the increased rate of his breathing than the physical act of climbing them.

Dani stays just behind him, her hand a light but constant presence on his elbow, ready if he needs her.

The drive over had been an unusually silent one. Malcolm’s lack of chattiness is probably the biggest giveaway of how much he’s actually hurting. Dani had checked on him just once but hadn’t pressed. She knows him too well by now.

When they finally reach his apartment he can’t help but sigh in relief. Dani snorts, shaking her head in the face of his obvious discomfort and stubborn refusal to seek medical attention. He pretends not to see.

“Feel free to have a seat, I’ll just be a moment,” he tells her as he heads to his closet to find the easiest outfit he can to change into. No three-piece suit today. A polo and jacket will suffice.

He works his way out of the white jacket slowly, wincing as he tries to pull his arms out of the sleeves, groaning quietly at even the small amount of effort it takes to worm his way free.

“Here, let me help you,” Dani says from behind, surprising him by her proximity. 

He’d assumed she’d gone to wait on the couch.

She reaches up from behind and pulls the jacket off easily, saving him from unnecessary motions.

“Thank you,” he tells her sincerely. “Thank you for everything, for being a good friend.”

He can’t see her, but he hears the rustle of fabric as she drops the jacket to the floor. She brings her hands up to rest on his shoulders, squeezing lightly. 

“Need help with this?” she asks quietly. 

He looks over his shoulder at her, trying to read her expression, but she scowls at him as soon as she does.

He smiles sheepishly. “Sorry. Habit. Uh, yeah, if you don’t mind. I’d appreciate the help. Let me just,” he pauses, gesturing at his chest before going to work at the buttons on the white linen shirt. 

It could be awkward, but it’s not. They’ve been through enough together, she’s seen him at some of his lowest points, and this is just par for the course, really.

“You know, Gil wouldn’t keep making you babysit me if you weren’t so calm about it all,” Malcolm notes, his tone light. He frees the buttons on his cuffs, then drops his hands to the side, signalling her that he’s ready.

“What?” Dani asks with a scoff, tugging at his shirt just a little harder than necessary.

“I think that first night was a test,” he continues, not really answering her question. “He wanted to see how you’d handle having to strap me to the bed. If you’d spooked then, he wouldn’t keep asking you to look out for me.”

“Well, like I told you then, you’re really not that weird,'' she replies airily. “I know you like to think you’re special, but…” she drifts off, and he can hear the devilish smile in her voice without even looking. She’s got one arm free of the shirt and moves on to the other side.

“I’ll just have to try harder, then. I hate losing,” he retorts, turning to smirk back at her as she pulls his other wrist free. She throws the shirt in his face, and he laughs, then gasps at the sharp jolt of pain that goes through him.

“Sorry,” Dani murmurs softly. She gives him a clinical once over, and he can tell she’s cataloging each and every one of the impressive array of bruises that are already showing. “Bright, are you sure you don’t need to go to the hospital?” she asks, hand hovering just above the worst of the bruising, on his back along the right side of his rib cage.

“No,” he admits wearily. “But I’d rather not. How about a compromise, and I agree to have a medic look at it when we get to the station?” 

She sighs, but nods. “If you’re sure. I’ll just be over there.” She waves towards the direction of the sitting area, gives him one more appraising look, eyes narrowed in consideration, then walks off towards the other end of the loft.

He can’t help but smile as she does.

***

True to his word, Malcolm goes to see the medic first thing when they arrive back at the precinct. He’s surprised and relieved to hear that none of his ribs are broken, just very bruised. He gets some extra-strength pain meds, an ice pack, and a wrap, and by the time they’re headed out to interview their next suspect-turned-victim, he feels good as new.

Even sliding under wires and jumping to catch falling swords goes off without a hitch. Okay, it hurts. But not enough to keep him from doing the job, and he’s pretty sure no one else on the team even notices.

Everything goes fine until the cellar, when he finds Ernesto, their grieving father and suspected killer. He  _ had  _ called for backup, technically. He’d told Gil that he’d found something. And Ernesto doesn’t look that dangerous, he’s unarmed and not a large man.

But, when he pushes Malcolm out of the way, his palm slams hard into Malcolm’s ribs and sends him stumbling back, his breath leaving his lungs in a rush of shock and pain. He forgets about the shelves behind him until he’s shoved back into them, one of the thin metal slats slamming agonizingly into his already battered back. He falls to the ground with a grunt, arm wrapping protectively around his middle. The pain he’d felt earlier returns full force, shooting down his spine and across his back and chest, robbing him of coherent thought as he struggles to simply draw breath. 

Malcolm pushes himself up slowly, and starts to hobble his way down the hall, determined not to let Ernesto escape. Dragging himself up the cellar stairs feels like a monumental effort, and he’s panting hard by the time he reaches the top, ribs throbbing as he forces himself to run after the other man. He’s never been more relieved to see Gil, though he would never admit to needing help. It’s a small mercy that Gil is too distracted taking Ernesto into custody to realize just how winded Malcolm is after the short chase across the lawn.

He’s lucky Gil was there, really. He’s willing to push himself, push through the pain to finish the case. But if Gil hadn’t been there he never would have caught Ernesto. He hates to admit it, even if only to himself, but he’d become a liability, he’d let his own stubbornness jeopardize a case.

It’s almost enough to convince him to finally listen to Gil, to let Dani take him to the airport so he can go on his vacation. 

Almost. 

But not quite. 

Because he still can’t let it go. There’s a fire in his belly, a certainty that they don’t have the right guy. There is still a puzzle to solve, a murderer to catch, a homicide to prevent. He may be running from his own demons, but if the trajectory of his flight leads him in the direction of their killer, then what’s the harm? He hasn’t failed them yet, despite the close calls. He can do this. He has to. 

Because he’d rather push through the pain than sit through the horror show in his head. 


End file.
